


Of Ink and Roses

by syrensxng (shootngstxr)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Cafe Owner Martha, F/M, Flower Seller Doctor, Fluff, Human AU, Human Doctor (Doctor Who), James Smith (Human Doctor), Mechanic Mickey, NaNoWriMo 2018, Office Worker Donna, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Rose/Doctor, Tattoo Artist Rose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 02:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shootngstxr/pseuds/syrensxng
Summary: If you asked Rose, she'd say she had everything she needed. A succesful tattoo parlour in downtown Cardiff, a good group of friends who always had her back, and a small cafe next door where she could get her coffee. Her life was simple, really. There wasn’t much to it, and not much changed. She liked it that way. Little did she know it would all change with the little flower stall a few blocks away.





	1. Chapter 1

Rose squinted, hazel eyes scrunched up in concentration. A single drop of sweat made its way from her forehead to the petal-covered tattoos on her neck as she stared intently. Admittedly, she may have been a little over her head with this one. The design she was inking was one of the hardest in her collection, and it was only at a friend's request that she was doing it this time. Intricately designed and stretching long across his back, Rose had been working on it for nearly eight hours consecutively, a feat that was sure to impress even the hardest critic.

"Ouch!" Mickey yelped from the lounge chair beside her, flinching ever-so-slightly as Rose continued her work.

She grunted in response, only just resisting the urge to smack him for the sudden movement. "Hold still," she hissed through clenched teeth. It was very nearly done, just another swirl here and there, and- _Ring_ ! Rose whipped around, looking like hell in high heels as she cursed under her breath and held the ink pen aloft menacingly. (Alright, maybe all this inking _was_ starting to get on her nerves.)

"Whoa, there," the intruder said, hands raised calmingly. The man shrugged off his military-esque coat, hanging it on a nearby coat rack. "Let's put the ink pen down, yeah?" Jack ran his hand through his hair, flashing a winning smile at Rose. She rolled her eyes. Nearly anyone else would've swooned at the motion, but not her. He was quite dashing, she admitted, but also far too cheesy for her tastes. Plus, he was taken.

"Hello, Jack," Rose sighed, turning around in her chair to get back to work. The old cuckoo clock that hung at the back of the shop proclaimed him to be nearly a quarter of an hour late, a common enough occurrence that she'd almost counted on it. She was accustomed to it by now, especially since he'd recently moved in with his boyfriend. They were cute, admittedly, but it meant that Jack was usually late to work since he now lived further away. She’d docked him pay at first, but he’d won her over eventually with little trinkets to decorate her desk with. Her coworker strolled up to the chair, eyeing Mickey's tattoo appreciatively.

He let out a low whistle. "How long'd that take?"

“Nearly eight hours,” came Mickey's muffled answer, from underneath the lounge pillow he'd buried his face in.

Rose huffed. "It'll be longer if you struggle," she tutted, glaring at his back harshly. She vaguely registered Jack studying her with a frown, concern evident on his face.

"No breaks?" he asked.

"...No," she replied hesitantly.

"Food?"

"'Had a sandwich this morning."

"It's quarter past twelve."

"Yeah."

Tense silence hung over the parlour for the next few minutes, stressed and uneasy.

Finally, Jack grabbed the pen out of Rose's hands, holding it high above her.

"Oi!" she yelped, jumping up at it in vain.

"We both know this for your own good," he declared solemnly, holding the pen just above her (very limited) grasp.

Rose groaned, still reaching for her prized possession. "Jack, come on!" she protested.

Suddenly Jack sobered, placing a hand on Rose’s shoulder earnestly. “Go, take a break.” She suddenly noticed his worried frown, eyes looking into hers with genuine concern. "This is the third time this month, Rosie." He swallowed thickly, still staring at her unwaveringly. "I'm worried about you." Jack murmured. Rose looked away guiltily, focusing her stare on the unswept floor below them. There was still so much to do here, so much needed to be done.

Rose sighed. She really had been done the moment he'd looked her in the eye. Jack so rarely sobered up, it was hard _not_ to take him seriously when he did. And as much as she hated to admit it, he did have a point. Maintaining a small, understaffed business in a small city took nearly everything she had, and sometimes there was hardly even any time to breathe. She rubbed her eyes wearily, stretching widely as she stood from her chair. Rose sighed. He did have a point… She rubbed her eyes wearily, stretching as she stood from the chair. “Don’t muck up the design.” Rose brushed his hand off but reached for her coat, swinging it over her shoulder as she walked out to the door. She’d never admit it, but maybe Jack was right… It couldn’t hurt to check out that new flower stall, anyway.

Rose stepped outside the tattoo parlor and took a long breath of fresh air. It felt good to finally be free of the smell of ink and sterile cleaner. Jack’s week-old chinese food didn’t help, either. She shuddered at the thought, quickening her pace. Just next door to the parlour was a cafe, where Rose usually stopped by just before work. The owner was a good friend of hers, and a long chat wasn't uncommon between them during their breaks.

Rose pushed open the heavy doors, and was immediately bombarded busy customers. So much for peace and quiet, she mused as she narrowly avoided a businessman who seemed to be carrying three separate trays of coffee. Rose craned her neck, hoping to get a glimpse of her friend past the crowd gathering at the counter. Early afternoons were always a busy time at Unitea Cafe, an already popular venue, and come midday Martha was often drowning in customers. Over the crowd, Rose could just barely spot the barista bustling around behind the counter. Rose shoved her way past the customers roughly (to their heavy protest) and slid behind the counter, meeting eyes with Martha.

“Need a hand?” she asked, grinning.

Martha sagged in relief, enveloping the blonde in a tight hug. Her hair, typically neatly combed and tied, had escaped from its bun and was now flying around her freely in disheveled strands.

“Oh thank God,” she practically sobbed into the blonde’s shoulder. “Rose, I could kiss you right now!”

Rose laughed, pushing her away gently. “Better not, Mickey might get jealous,” she winked.

Mickey was Rose’s ex, now Martha's boyfriend. They’d had a mutual breakup a year ago when Rose had decided to open her tattoo parlor. Martha met him not long after, when he’d taken a summer job at the cafe to pay off some loans and the two had been dating ever since. As it turned out, it had only taken a nudge from Rose to get them together.

“Of me or you?” Martha asked, dusting off the front of her apron. Rose raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, good point. Anyway, you up for a bit of serving? I _really_ need a bit of help around here.”

Rose shrugged. “Sure, why not?” She followed the brunette, who gestured for her to come to the back.

Martha handed Rose a tray and placed a couple of drinks on it, turning around again to add some snacks onto it. Rose frowned as she was handed a second tray. "Shouldn't there be someone else here?" she asked, look around the empty storage room. She could've sworn there was at least one other person helping out at the cafe.

"Yeah, Tish was here up until a week or so ago." Martha grabbed another bun off the shelf and put it on Rose's tray, pursing her lips. "But she'd gotten a call about some high-class job or somethin' and had to move apartments 'n all that."

"Why don't you hire someone, then?" asked Rose, who was now struggle to balance the drinks and snacks Martha had handed her.

"Yeah, well tell me if you find anyone," the barista sighed, patting Rose's back as she headed out the door to the bustling crowd just beyond the counter. "I doubt anyone'd put up with this for the little pay I'm offering."

 

It was a good half hour or so until the crowd started to thin out, and by then Rose had had enough waitressing to last her a lifetime, God knew how Martha did it every day.

"'M really sorry about keeping you here," the brunette apologized later, when everyone had gone and the two were wiping the tables. "You can take some change out of the tip jar if you like, you were a big help."

Rose laughed. "Don't worry about it, it was fine. I needed something to take my mind off things anyway," she added.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Too much bustlin' around nowadays, huh?"

Rose nodded, wiping another table clean.

Martha looked up, placing her hands on her hips. "Tell you what, I hear there's a new flower stall around. Why don't you have a look?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow at her friend. "I'm a bit busy for that, don't you think?"

"Oh, come off it! You're on break, aren't you?" Martha huffed, spraying the table she was cleaning once more. By now it was practically a mirror, clear and shiny as the day it had been made.

Rose sighed. "Well..."

"If it helps, I hear the owner’s got a cute bum,” she winked.

"Martha!"

"What? Mickey isn't here!"

Rose pondered the idea for a moment more. "Fine. But only because I'm here on break, not 'cause of... that other thing." she sniffed, staring Martha down disapprovingly.

"Right, _sure_ ,” the brunette said, wiping her brow as she set the cleaning supplies aside. Martha grinned at her conspiratorially. “Get going, then, before your break ends!”

"Alright, alright, I'm out!" Rose grinned, hanging up her apron and shrugging on her jacket. According to her friend, the flower shop was a block or so away, right near the Clements tower, where the city square was. It wasn’t a bad place to set up a stall, really, the area around there was always filled with hustle and bustle from what Rose remembered. She’d considered setting up her parlour there when she’d first opened up, too, but decided against it because of the commute. Powell Street wasn’t too shabby for business anyhow, and she quite liked having a number of attractions near her workplace. A chilly wind blew through the area and Rose shuddered, teeth shaking as it ruffled her hair and sent shivers through her body. The blonde shoved her hands into the pockets of her long vest coat, grumbling something about cold winds and warmer weather.

 

Rose froze suddenly. She felt around her pockets, frowning. There was something there, something that hadn't been there before. She pulled out a ten dollar bill, examining it carefully. Of course; Martha. She must've slipped it into her coat pocket as Rose was working, intent on offering a reward in some way or another. Rose shook her head, sighing. Her friend was stubborn as ever, that was for sure. There was a post-it attached to the bill, too.

‘Make sure your first date’s at the cafe! ;)’

Rose made a face. She huffed, crumpling up the paper and depositing it at a nearby trash can with a frown. Martha was always trying to set her up with someone in one way or another, either through a friend or signing her up for speed-dating. Rose wasn’t all that interested in romance anyway, the tattoo parlor was really all she needed. Besides, she’d had some… unsavory experiences with a bloke some years back that didn’t exactly have her rushing back into the dating scene. She had her friends, her job, and her family. What more could she want, really?

Before she knew it, Rose had arrived on Galley Way, where the flower stall was supposed to be. As expected, it was a busy sort of square, filled with people walking to and fro. Galley Way was a popular tour destination, from what Rose knew from the brochures that often found their way into her hands. There was a market near here that was popular with the children, and a cheese store that got visited often enough. City performers were nearly always there as well, and it was common knowledge that you could make a quick buck or two selling trinkets to the tourists that often passed by the area. Rose herself had done it when she was younger and had an hour to spare between work shifts and classes. Jack definitely still did, though his baubles could almost be called scams with how expensive they were. In any case, it had been long enough since Rose last visited that there were a few tents and stalls around unrecognizable to her, and she spent a few minutes strolling around looking at each one.

One stood out above the rest, however, the canvas roof of it a deep navy blue. It was lined with flowers of all sorts, too, each flourishing beautifully. Their myriad of colors stood out starkly against the otherwise dull city square. Rose grinned, making her way to the vividly-hued stall eagerly. This must be the stall Jack and Martha were talking about, surely. Amidst the array of flowers, she could see a man flitting about behind the counter. He was wearing a florist apron and a long blue collared shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He seemed to be busy arranging the flowers inside of the stall, well-combed hair flouncing about in an almost comical manner as he did so.

“Excuse me?” Rose asked, an amused smirk playing across her lips. The man didn’t seem to notice her, still moving about busily. He was oddly captivating to watch, in the same way one could never quite take their eyes off a bouncing cockatoo. “Hello?” she rang the odd gold-colored bell on the counter once for good measure, raising an eyebrow.

That seemed to get his attention. The florist seemed to perk up, spinning around to face her with a lively, beaming sort of smile. “Oh! Hello,” he grinned boyishly, wiping his water-soaked hands on his apron as he did so. “Sorry about that, the shop needs a bit of sorting out before I can really get to organizing my things,” the man admitted plainly. “Of course, you’re welcome to browse about if you’d like,” he gestured sweepingly to the flowers surrounding him, accidentally cuffing one or two of them as he did so.

Rose beamed back. “Sure, yeah. I’d like, that.” She waited a moment or two for him to introduce himself, looking around for a shop name. “I’m Rose,” she offered, extending a hand to him.

He took it eagerly. “James,” the man grinned. “Sorry, did I hear Rose? Like the…?” James gestured to her neck, and Rose touched her tattoo lightly, a series of floral rose vines adorning her neck.

“Yeah, silly idea for a tattoo, I know,” she shrugged. She’d gotten it a year ago when Jack had first signed on, as a sort of initiation. It had been a risky move, Rose was well aware, but turned out beautifully inked. Jack claimed it was due to his superb inking skills, Rose claimed it was her ornate design. Either way, it had been their first combined effort, one that they both secretly treasured.

“No, no, I quite like it,” he said, staring at her in a way that made Rose blush. He was getting awfully close now, not that she minded. She was going to have to thank Jack and Martha when she got back. “It’s beautiful.” James seemed to remember himself suddenly, and jerked away, widening the gap between them. “Sorry, did you come by for something?”

Rose nodded, ignoring the disappointed feeling that was beginning to bloom in her. “My friend runs the Unitea Cafe nearby, and she sent me to get some flowers for the front counter,” she explained. “Just a simple bouquet should do.”

“Sure thing!” James turned to pick a few flowers from the back shelf, still chattering pleasantly over the shoulder. “So, the Unitea Cafe, huh? That’s just a couple blocks away, right?”

“Yup,” Rose answered, popping the p. Some of these flowers were really very well-grown, she thought, cupping a nearby carnation carefully with her hand. They wouldn’t make bad art references, either. “I work nearly right beside her, so I usually drop by for a cuppa before work, too.” A shaft of light peeked through the clouds suddenly, bathing the two of them in golden sun.

James beamed at her through the sunlight, an assortment of various vividly-colored flowers gathered in his arms. “That sounds great,” he smiled, wrapping them together with a small tie. “I’ve only just moved here, so I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to get to know the area.”

Rose nodded. Cardiff was quite a big place, and even navigating the transit system was a challenge without a guide. “I can show you around, if you like,” she offered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Tomorrow, after lunch?”

“Sounds great,” he chuckled. “Oh! Right, I should probably give you this.” James reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to her with a flourish. “Where should I meet you?”

She took it eagerly. “Unitea Cafe, 2 o’clock. How much do I owe you for this, anyway?” Rose asked, taking the bouquet from his hands.

“30 pounds,” James chirped, reaching back into the shop to grab something. Rose handed him the bill, blushing lightly when he handed her a rose in exchange. “Consider it a first-customer bonus,” he winked. “Tell your friend I said hi, too.”

“Will do!” Rose grinned, as she turned to the direction of the tattoo parlour. A pink and yellow rose, huh? She smiled, fingering the petals lightly. It was beautiful.

 

Author's Note: This took much longer than I expected, but it's finally done!

Some notes about the writing: I haven't actually been to Cardiff, but the square Rose visits here where James' flower shop is set up is based off of St. Mark's Square in Venice, which I spent some time in when I visited Italy. 

Galley Way = Gallifrey (haha I think I'm so funny)

Unitea Cafe = UNIT 

30 pounds would be approximately $38.50 US, which is actually a bit cheap for a bouquet of flowers.

During the season 2 episode New Earth, the Doctor describes Rose (and humans in general) as being oddly pink and yellow, the same colors for the rose James gives at the end of the chapter here. 


	2. Darkness (and the Warmth It Brings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A (not-)date, two meddling friends, and one extaordinary tattoo parlour. Wherein a rainy day spoils plans, a midnight sky rains, and Rose forgets her troubles, if only for a moment.

 

_If I lay here_

_If I just lay here_

_Would you lie with me and just forget the world?_

_Forget what we're told_

_Before we get too old_

_Show me a garden that's bursting into life_

(Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol)

* * *

 Rose examined the business card James had given her carefully. It was simply made, with an elegant cursive font and lovely floral border. It contained a few key pieces of information: his name, the location of the flower stall, and a phone number. The weather outside had long turned gloomy, a stark contrast to the beaming sunlight of yesterday afternoon. Fierce winds ravaged the trees outside, blowing harshly against their shaking branches as people outside ran for cover. Rose regarded this all pensively, sipping her strawberry smoothie quietly from the shelter of the cafe where she was sitting. Currently, she was debating whether or not to give James, who was supposed to meet her in fifteen minutes, a call. Rose _might_ have been a bit hasty, arranging a meeting (not a date!) with him without checking the weather. Eating together at a cafe was one thing, sure, but touring the city in weather like this? Not so much. What a shame, too, she’d been looking forward to spending the day with him.

Rose nearly jumped when Martha slid into the booth across from her, smirking suggestively. “So,” she began conversationally. “What’s he _like_?” Rose raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Whenever Martha talked with her about boys (or girls, whoever struck her fancy) she always sounded like a thirteen-year-old talking about her crushes.

“Martha, I barely even know him!” Rose rolled her eyes, waving her drink around for emphasis. “Besides, all I’m doing is showing him around town.” It was Minda’s turn to look unimpressed.

She propped her head up with one arm, shrugging. “Still, he must have had _something_ to make you ask for a date the first time you met him.”

“Not a date,” Rose reminded the brunette.

Martha tactfully ignored her. “Did he have a good arse?” She leaned in conspiratorially, hazel eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Who has a good arse?”

Martha jumped at the familiar voice, failing to notice the shadow looming behind her. “Mickey!” she yelped, whipping around in her chair.

“No one,” Rose muttered, at the same time Martha said “Rose’s date!”

Mickey grinned, shuffling into the booth beside his girlfriend. “You didn’t tell me you were seein’ anyone! Good on ya.”

“‘S not a date,” she grumbled, sipping her smoothie loudly. The wind had died down outside and long since become a light autumn breeze, but it had begun to rain too, enveloping the city in a dark, grizzling gray.

“About time, too,” Mickey continued, wrapping an arm around Martha. “You haven’t had a good catch since we broke up,” he winked jokingly.

“Yeah, well I’m looking for someone less annoying this time,” she said pointedly. Rose ignored the bitter feeling at his comment, forcing a tongue-tipped smile.

“Ah, so it is a date!” Martha announced triumphantly, nearly smacking Mickey in the face in the process.

“I- No, it’s not!”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Right, yeah, that’s why you’re meetin’ him in a cafe and showin’ him around town.” He took a sip of Martha's ice frappuccino, which he’d stolen a mere minute ago.

“Oh, come off it!”

Before either of the pair could get another word in edgewise, a loud ringing filled the cafe, signifying the entrance of a new customer. Rose watched as Martha craned her neck to see who it was, a grin lighting up her face as she recognised the client.

“There he is!” The brunette turned to her boyfriend, swatting at him animatedly and nearly causing Mickey to spill Martha's drink on the table. “Babe, we should probably leave her alone. Let her get acquainted with her date.” She pulled Mickey away before he could say anymore, sending one last wink at Rose.

“It isn't-” Rose protested in vain. “Ugh.” Forget it. They were too far away by now anyway.

“Who was that?” James asked, turning to Rose with an amused smirk on his face. “Friends of yours?”

Rose shrugged, smiling softly at him. He was wearing a long tan coat, left opened carelessly to show a similarly-colored pinstripe suit. His hair, too was odd and seemed to be styled with buckets upon buckets of hair gel. It was an odd look on anyone else, but somehow, some way, he made it work.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. They mean well, but they tease me quite a bit.” She gestured with a nod of the head to the cafe counter, where Mickey was giving her a thumbs up.

James nodded, waving at the man amusedly. “I see that.” James made a move to sit across Rose, shuffling into the small booth awkwardly. (Rose found it endearing.) He pulled off his drenched trench coat, and combed through his hair, which she now noticed was covered in water.

Rose bit her lip. “Sorry, really should’ve thought this through before making you come over here. It’s pourin’ outside, and your stall’s so far away…”

“No, no,” he assured her. “It’s fine, really.” He combed through his hair again, which was surprisingly well styled. “Waterproof hair gel, see?” James chuckled. “Besides, I doubt anyone would’ve wanted flowers in this weather anyway, it’s far too cold out for a walk in the square.”

Rose relaxed a bit at that. “Well, if you’re sure… You mind spending some time here instead? It’s, erm, still pouring outside and I’m not exactly dressed for the weather.” She gestured to her sunhat and chiffon skirt.

“Sure thing!” he flashed her another grin. “I wasn’t planning on going out for a while yet anyway, it’d be nice to have a drink. “Besides, there’s always other days, right? I mean, if you still want to show me around, that is.”

She nodded. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” Rose could already feel a warm blush creeping up her face as she tucked her hair behind her ear for what felt like the fifth time that day.

 

So they stayed. They stayed and talked and laughed, and Rose had to admit, it did feel a _little_ like a date. But just a little. At some point in time Martha came by with James’ drink, a whipped cream-topped banana split frappuccino.

“Where’d that come from?” Rose asked, surprised. To her knowledge, Martha didn’t have any dessert drinks on her cafe menu, much less a banana split frappuccino.

Martha winked at her, handing James his sugar-filled drink. “Secret menu,” she laughed. “Guy knows his stuff.” Rose nodded, feeling a little dazed. “You guys going to the parlour? Shouldn’t be too much of a hassle to get there.”

James raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to stop inhaling his drink. “The parlour?”

“Rose, you haven’t told him?” Martha placed a hand on her hip and frowned, looking at her expectantly.”

“Tell me what?”

“I, erm- run the tattoo parlour next door. Bad Wolf Ink?” Rose asked hesitantly. She’d avoided the topic of her work for a reason, she was afraid he might think of her differently after hearing what she did for a living.

James’ face lit up, a smile spreading across his face. “Really? A tattoo parlour, that’s brilliant! I’d love to see it.”

Rose smiled back, relieved. “I can show it to you on Friday if you’d like, when we go around town.”

Minda scoffed, unimpressed. “Why don’t you two lovebirds go now? The rain’s died down by quite a bit since you got here, ‘s barely a mist now.”

The pair looked at each other. “I’d love to,” Rose started. “But neither of us have an umbrella, and I’m still wearing a skirt-”

Out of nowhere, Mickey popped up, handing the blonde an umbrella and thick raincoat. “Problem solved!” Minda chirped, patting Rose on the back. “Don’t be strangers!” And with that, the two were pushed outside, Rose barely having time to open the umbrella as they were.

“They mean well,” Rose reassured, smiling sheepishly as James moved closer to get underneath the umbrella. “Bet they’re expectin’ some big romance scene out of all this.”

He nodded silently, staring up at the greying sky. Light drops of rain trickled down the transparent covering of the umbrella, racing downwards and falling off the edge in thick spheres. They seemed to glow in the darkness, the light of the streetlamps refracting off of them. All was quiet.

“It’d be nice, though,” James commented, the sound of his voice resounding in the empty silence. “Seeing your parlour and all that, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah. It would.”

It was strange to hear the sudden lull of silence, especially in a busy city like Cardiff. Rose was used to hearing bustling crowds, loud honks of passing cars, and the occasional cry of excitement. Not like this. The sudden, serene silence was comforting somehow, enveloping her in a dark blanket as she and James walked side by side. It’s quiet uptown, she thought to herself. How rare. Even the rain seemed to be nearly silent, as it dripped and gathered in small pools along the pavement. Rose laughed softly as James kicked a nearby puddle, turning to grin at her as the droplets scattered when he did so. He was playful, she’d learned, nearly a direct contrast to Martha's stern seriousness.

Soon they’d reached the tattoo parlour, and Rose pulled out her silver key to unlock it. James let out a whistle, hands tucked into his pockets as he stared up at the parlour front. Rose blushed, focusing on opening the parlour door. “ _This_ is yours?”

“I know it’s not much, but…”

“That’s not what I meant.” Rose turned to face him, frowning. “I think it’s charming. I-In a good way, I mean. It’s lovely.”

Rose stopped fiddling with the key and stepped back to look at the parlour at a distance with him. The front of it was decorated by a wooden sign she’d hand-painted herself. It read the name in a cursive, loopy font and a picture of a wolf, eyes blazing golden. The building itself was… worn down and battered, well-loved through the years. But it was _hers_ , and for all its scars Rose still loved it dearly.

Her emotions must’ve been written all over her face, for what James said next. “This place really means a lot to you, huh?”

She nodded quietly. “Of course! It’s the first thing that’s really ever been _mine_ , y’know? I really had to work for this place, and I just-” She blushed again. For a first not-date, she sure was revealing a lot about herself. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

James shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He gazed at the parlour wistfully, and Rose remembered with a start to open it. She reached for the key, still stuck in the door, and turned it.

For a moment she stumbled around blindly in the parlour, reaching out in darkness. Then there was light. Bad Wolf Ink technically only had hours until 6 pm, 8 on weekdays. But sometimes, for reservations and late night events, Rose opened up shop past sunset. For those occasions there were a few special decorations set up,

“Oh, wow,” James breathed in awe, a slow smile spreading across his face. Fluorescent patterns and swirls covered the parlour all over, giving it a uniquely enchanting glamour. Golden wolves, fierce and growling, leaped across the walls of the parlour, glowing brightly in the shadows. Rose smiled at his reaction. She ran her fingers over the glowing floral embellishments adorning her own tattoo station, luminous and vibrant against the old wood of the desk. “What is it?” James asked, eyeing Jack’s star-spangled station.

“Ultraviolets,” she explained simply. “They, erm- only show up in the dark. ‘S why Martha wanted us to visit at night, I guess.”

He whistled loudly. “Well, tell her thanks for the suggestion. What’s this?” James reached underneath the brick counter at the front, heaving up a familiar leather-bound book. It was large and hefty, nearly bursting at the seams with added paper.

“Oh! That’s just… a sketchbook.” Rose pried the book open carefully, and it opened with a heavy thud against the desk. The archaic book was filled with numerous sketches, crammed between pages and on margins. “I like to sketch design ideas in between shifts, just so we have something unique.”

“Well, it works,” James chuckled, running a hand through his hair. He looked around the parlour, still glowing lightly in the darkness. “It’s definitely the most unique tattoo parlour _I’ve_ ever seen.

“Thanks. You wanna grab a seat?” Rose led him to the back of the parlour, where she pulled up chairs for the two of them. For a while they sat in comfortable quiet, admiring the decals and patterns on the walls. “You know,” she said slowly, breaking the silence, “I really don’t know too much about you.” Rose turned to look at James, his face obscured in the shadowed twilight of the parlour. “How did you end up working at a flower stall, anyway?” He sobered up suddenly, and Rose wondered if she’d asked the wrong question. “I mean, you don’t need to talk about it if it’s personal, it’s just-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he assured her. “I’m here on a sort of gap year, actually. I’m looking to get a history degree in a year or so. Figure a flower stand’s a good of a way as any to make some money.”

“You’re paying tuition yourself?” Rose asked, frowning.

James shrugged. “Yeah, my parents wanted me to go into law school, so they refused to pay for me to go into a history degree. I don’t really have much of a choice otherwise.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose sighed, running a hand through her blonde hair. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He took her hand suddenly, clasping it in his with a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it. ‘Needed to get it off my chest anyway. Shouldn’t take longer than a year or so to get the money, in any case.” He turned to her, eyes flashing in the dark of the parlour. “What about you? Seems like you’ve put your heart and soul into this parlour, how’d you get it set up?”

Rose grinned widely. “Yeah, I have. ‘S been running for a year or two, with just me and Jack here. Martha kinda helped me set up in the beginning though, she’s got a great eye for design when it gets down to it.” The smile fell from her face suddenly, her mouth pulling into a tight frown for a moment.

“If it helps, I think it’s extraordinary.”

She shook herself out of it. Rose laughed softly, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes slowly. “Thanks,” Rose sighed, leaning into him. “I hope so.” Tomorrow’s problems could wait, she decided. Here, in the darkness, it was just the two of them. That she could handle.

 

Author's Note:

OwO what's this? Hints of angst? 

I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter, the rain scene especially. There's something romantic, I think, in sharing an umbrella together while rain pours away outside. In regards to all the typos and grammatical errors, this is a first draft so there's bound to be a couple hidden in there. If you find any, I'd love for you to let me know so I can correct it. At the end of November when Nanowrimo's finally done I'll probably do another quick sweep of it and tweak the story some. 

Lastly, thank you  _so_ much for all your support on the last chapter, you guys have been fantastic and every bit helps.

Of course, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks again for reading!


	3. Petals and Problems

“Wotcher, flower boy!” James turned to see a familiar ginger-haired woman leaning on the counter of his flower stall, grinning eagerly at him.

“Hello, Donna,” he greeted her with a smile. “The usual?”

She nodded, pulling at the tight collar of her blazer. “If you could, yeah. Take your time, though,” Donna added quickly.

James shot her a sympathetic glance. The company she worked as a temp at, HC Clements, worked her hard and long, often keeping her far past shift hours for simple menial tasks. From what she’d told him, Donna had only taken the job on her mother’s insistence, but hated the stuffy office feeling of it. She came by every two weeks or so to replace the dahlias and daffodils at the front desk. “Job not going well?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Donna moaned, collapsing on the counter. “They’re working me to the bone, James, it’s ridiculous!” He listened with patient smile, well-used to Donna’s complaints. She was pleasant to talk to, anyhow, and James enjoyed their little conversations in the morning. He fancied himself to be quite a good advisor. “I mean, it’s not like they ask _Sophie_ to wipe the counters every mornin’!”

“Mm-hm…” James continued wrapping the flowers. “Have you talked to them about it?”

Donna slammed her hands on the wood of the counter suddenly. “Of course I’ve talked to them about it!” James reached out to still a nearby rattling vase, unperturbed by her sudden movement. “But they really don’t listen, y’know? They just don’t care!”

James hummed pensively, thinking for a moment. He snapped his fingers. “Ah, I’ve got it! Wait here,” he told her. James plucked a few flowers here and there from his shelves, presenting them with a flourish to Donna. “Yellow carnations, orange lilies, and red petunias.”

She quirked an eyebrow, bemused. “And?”

“Disdain, hatred, and resentment,” he winked, sliding the flowers into the bouquet.

Donna took them eagerly, face splitting into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Oh-ho-ho, I like the way you think, Jimmy-boy!”

A sudden gust of wind overtook the square, rustling the flower petals around them. They scattered in the wind, twisting and twirling through the air in beautiful spirals. James heard a familiar yelp, and turned to see Rose behind them, holding her sunhat down from the breeze.

“Rose!” James called out to her, waving.

She looked up as the wind settled, beaming brightly at him. “James! Hi.” Rose paused, seeing Donna at the counter. “Sorry, are you busy? I could come by later.”

James frowned. “No, it’s fine. I was just finishing up here with Donna,” he assured her, gesturing to the ginger, who gave a little wave in greeting.

“Oh, sure! I’m Rose, by the way.” Rose extended a hand to Donna, holding a short list in the other.

“Donna,” she replied, shaking the blonde’s hand. “Don’t mind me, I’m just getting a bouquet and all that.” Rose nodded.

“Here you are, Donna!” James handed her the finished bouquet, in all its passive-aggressive sunset glory.

She handed him a handful of change. “Thanks, flower boy. Have fun,” Donna added with a wink, waving at Rose again as she left.

James sighed. He’d definitely have to ask her about that later. “Right, then!” he exclaimed, turning to Rose. “You’ve got an order?” He gestured to the paper list in her hand.

“Hm?” Rose asked, clearly preoccupied. Her hazel-eyed stare seemed to still be on Donna, who was quickly retreating in the background. “Oh, right. Erm, these are for a friend.” She handed the slip of paper to him distractedly. James turned to get the flowers, scanning over the list. “Sorry, was that your girlfriend?” Rose seemed slightly upset, her cupid-shaped lips turned into a frown.

James whipped around. “Donna? No, no, she’s just a friend. Comes by here every couple of weeks to replace the flowers at her office.” He dropped a few flowers on the wooden counter, crossing a few items on the list.

“Oh, alright then.” She seemed relieved, James noted, a smile twitching at his lips.

“This friend of yours sure knows their flowers,” he mentioned. There was quite an extensive record of flowers on the paper, all with very romantic meanings. Whoever’d made the list had definitely done their research.

Rose nodded. “That’s Jack, said he wanted to get something nice for his boyfriend on their anniversary.”

“That’s sweet,” James commented as he searched his shelves for a white dittany. “He’s your coworker, right? Works with you in the parlour?”

“Yeah,” Rose confirmed. She shifted her weight awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of her blouse.

“Tell him I liked the glow-in-the-dark stars,” he quipped cheerfully. Rose laughed at that. Ah, there were the jasmines. He bent down to reach them, inserting them into the bouquet triumphantly. “Here you are, Miss Tyler,” James grinned. “Will that be all?”

Rose reached for them. “Yeah, thanks. I’ve gotta get back to the parlour before my break ends. What do I owe you?”

“28 pounds and 50 pence.”

She handed him the change and moved to leave, waving behind her as she left. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” Rose called.

James nodded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sure.” he sighed wistfully as her form disappeared in the distance, propping his head up with an arm on the counter. He’d been thinking for no less than a minute when he was interrupted, and Donna popped up out of nowhere to startle him.

 

“ _So_ …” she smirked. “Who was that?” Donna’s teal blue eyes flashed with mischief, and James was sure if she was a dog her tail would be wagging energetically. Unfortunately she was just as pestering as one, too.

“Just Rose,” he said simply, wiping down the wooden counter.  “She owns the tattoo parlour a few blocks away. A better question’s why are you here? I thought you’d left a while ago.”

Donna shrugged. “I _may_ or may not have stuck around to eavesdrop on your conversation a bit.”

“Donna!” James groaned, throwing his hands (and the cleaning rag) up in exasperation.

“I was curious, alright? If it makes you feel any better, she was gawking at your arse the whole time you were turned around.” James blushed a shade nearly as red as the roses on the shelves. Before he could respond, Donna continued. “When you gonna ask her out, anyway?”

The florist spluttered embarrassedly. “I- Well, I mean- What do you mean, ask her out?”

Donna rolled her eyes mightily, tossing her bright ginger hair with painted nails as she sighed. “Oh come off it, I saw the look you gave her! Not to mention the ridiculous puppy eyes when she left. You’ve got it bad, flower boy.”

James threw up his arms again. “Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” he asked exasperatedly, huffing at his friend. “‘S not like she’s expressed any interest or anythin’, we’ve only known each other for a week or two!”

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “It’s simple, innit?” she asked matter-of-factly. James frowned. He didn’t like where she was going with this. “You’ve gotta make a move.”

 

Rose rushed into the cafe for a late lunch, set her stuff down beside the tall cushioned stool, and collapsed onto the grey stone counter at the side of the cafe. Martha noted her entrance almost immediately from where she’d been doing the inventory. She took one look at the blonde and sighed, glancing out the window quickly before locking the counter display closed and pulling off her grey apron.

The barista set herself down on the stool beside Rose and turned to her halfway, face pulled into a worried frown. “You alright, love? ‘Looking a bit on the down side.”

“Just a ham and cheese sandwich, please,” came Rose’s muffled reply.

Martha pursed her lips, unsatisfied with her friend’s answer. She crossed her arms, poking at the blonde stubbornly. “I ain’t getting your lunch until you give me a right proper answer,” she huffed, checking the small analog clock on the wall. “Even _if_ you’re an hour late.”

“‘S nothing, Martha, promise,” Rose sighed, head still buried in her scarf on the counter. “I’m perfectly-”

“Fine?” the brunette finished in a clipped tone. “Yeah, like I buy that. Is it Jack? Do I need to teach him a lesson about being late again?” She wrinkled her nose distastefully, knowing how bad her friend’s charismatic coworker could be.

“What? No, no, Jack’s fine,” Rose waved off.  Well- usually. Ianto keeps him in check most days, at least. It’s just…” She trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.

The barista rolled her eyes again, tugging at her friend’s jacket irritably. “Spit it out, Rose, come on! Sit up, too, get your face off of that counter, I haven’t washed it in ages.”

Rose sat up, rubbing at her eyes wearily. It was then that Martha saw the full extent of her friend’s worry, written all over the blonde’s face in tired lines. “It’s the parlour, Martha. It’s just- the parlour isn’t gettin’ as much business as it used to.” There was a faraway look in her eyes, one rarely seen in the enthusiast’s face.

“Is that all? Rose, I’ve told you, it’s-”

“Yeah, well, I mean it this time, alright?” Rose bit her lip, chewing at it uncertainly. “And I’m sure if I could open it up at night it’d be fine, but Jack can’t do shifts that late, and I can’t find anyone else to do it, and-”

“Whoa, slow down, alright? First off, tell that lazy sod to get off his arse, and all that,” Martha pointed her finger at the blonde. She was well aware of Jack’s lack of commitment to his job and the toll it could take on Rose. Not that she ever complained, of course. Jack was still a good friend, despite his sloth and overly-playful attitude.

“Martha!” Rose protested.

Martha continued. “Besides, do you really need a second person to help you at night? Surely it isn’t that hard to open up at night.”

Rose stared out the window forlornly. “I _wish_. There’s always a huge crowd whenever I open up past dark, and if I don’t have someone in to ink with me, I at least need someone to manage the transactions and all that?”  

“And you can’t find anyone to do that?”

The blonde sighed, blowing a spare strand of hair out of her face. “Ugh, no.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I mean, who’d willingly stay up ‘til 12 working at a dingy tattoo parlour with me? Not like I can pay them much, either.” Rose shrugged.

Martha made a sympathetic sound. “Mmh, I can see how that can be a problem.”

“Yeah, can you or Mickey help out?” She gave Martha her best puppy eyes (which were, admittedly, quite good). “I really could use the help.”

“Sorry, can’t. We’ve both got work early mornin’ the next day. Not everyone can afford to open up shop at 11, you know?” Martha asked, raising an eyebrow. Tattooing might be an unstable form of business, but the barista was still quite jealous of her friend’s work hours. 11-5 was almost heaven to work in a big city.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…” Rose tugged at the hem of her denim jacket bitterly. Her expression seemed to sour, cupid bow-lips turning to a pout. “Everything was so much easier when Jimmy was around, y’know? It’s not that I wish I was back with him, but…” Martha's softened. It had been a long time since Rose had started the tattoo parlour with her then-boyfriend Jimmy. The two of them had figured running a small business would be easier between two people, but split up soon after, leaving Rose to run Bad Wolf Ink by herself. Jack helped some, of course, but he’d never had the same passion for the parlour that Rose had, and Jimmy had refused to ever come back no matter the circumstances.

“Hey, what about James?” she suggested, in an attempt to cheer up her friend.

Rose seemed to snap out of her reverie, head snapping up. “What, the florist? I can’t ask him!”

“Why not?” Martha shrugged. “He knows how to work the cash register, and he’s free most of the time.”

Rose looked at the brunette disbelievingly. “Martha, I’ve known him for, like, a week!”

“So? Nothing wrong with asking, he wasn’t busy the night of your little date.”

“Not a date!” Rose defended, cheeks coloring pink. Martha's mouth twisted into a smile at the sight, and she shrugged.

“Just think it over, yeah?” she gave Rose another comforting pat on the back, pulling her apron on again. “I’ll get you a sandwich, think it through a bit. If you really need help, he seems like a decent bloke to help out.” Martha hadn’t known James for very long, and she’d only seen him when he came over for Rose’s not-date, but he seemed alright enough to her, and Rose spoke well of him. Of course, if he tried anything she’d still give him a good run for it, but he seemed nice enough.

Still though, Martha thought as Rose paid for her sandwich and waved her goodbye, her friend didn’t exactly have a good track record when it came to love. Martha sighed.

 

The clear ringing of a bell heralded the arrival of a new customer and Martha ignored it, used to the raucous noise of the cafe. It was only a little past rush hour, after all. There were still plenty of folks still looking to get a good lunch around. She turned to greet the customer, blinking in surprise when it happened to be the very person she’d been thinking of.

“Oh, hey! James, what can I get you?” Martha greeted with unusual cheeriness.

“Martha, hi. Erm- I don’t suppose you’ve seen Rose anywhere?” the florist asked sheepishly. Martha noticed that his hair was scruffier than usual, and seemed to have a sort of bedhead quality to it. His coat, too, was misaligned in a dorky way, as if he’d been in a rush to leave that morning. It was odd to see him here, she thought absentmindedly, especially since it was still work hours for his stand.

Martha shrugged it off. A late lunch break perhaps, she dismissed. “No, sorry, you just missed her. She’s been awfully busy lately, said she didn’t have time to properly sit down and have tea.”

“Ah, alright then. Thanks anyway!” James smiled boyishly, small dimples appearing on his cheeks, and for a moment Martha could see what Rose found so charming about him. He turned to leave, adjusting his coat and tie hurriedly.

Martha paused. “James, wait,” she said. He stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at the barista. There was an uncomfortable silence in the air as Martha worked out what to say, suddenly aware of the few customers that still lingered in the cafe. She glared at a nearby staring client, who turned away sheepishly. The barista beckoned for him to come closer, pulling him back through the staff entrance.

“Look,” she whispered in hushed tones, closing the door to the backroom firmly behind them. “I’ll keep it simple, alright? Rose needs help.”

James’ reaction was immediate? “What? Why? What happened?” He looked like a distressed cockatoo somehow, hair flouncing about, and Martha had to stifle a laugh at the sight.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” she assured him. “She just needs someone to help work the parlour with her at night shifts.”

He seemed relieved by the statement, his hysteria lessening noticeably. “Oh. Really, is that all? I’m, erm- free on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday if she needs me,” James told her.

“Alright. But listen James, the only reason I’m the one telling you this and not her is because she’s afraid to ask.”

“What do you mean?”

“Truth is, the parlour’s been goin’ through some hard times recently,” Martha admitted. She shifted her weight awkwardly, glancing out the staff door window. “Rose thinks doin’ in some night shifts’ll help fix the problem and all that, but there aren’t enough funds to go around right now to properly hire someone.”

“I- No, yeah, of course I’d help!”

“Great, thanks.” Martha relaxed a bit at that, shrugging off some of her previous apprehension. “She’ll appreciate that. Just pop on over to the parlour a little after closing times today, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“And James?”

“Hm?”

Martha paused at the door mid-push, glancing over her shoulder at him. “You seem like a good bloke, alright? Don’t do anything that’d make me think otherwise.”

And with that she was gone, disappeared into the hustle-and-bustle of the busy cafe, leaving James alone in the backroom to ponder her words and their meaning.

 

Author's Note:  

Jack’s Bouquet - blue violets (trustworthiness and faith), purple tulips (royalty), jasmine (modesty, love, and sensuality), forget-me-not (true love and memories), white dittany (passion).

Donna’s Bouquet - Dahlia (cheer and happiness), daffodil (friendship and good health).

Added Flowers - Yellow carnations (disdain), orange lilies (hatred), and red petunia (resentment).

 

Apologies for the late update, I've been a bit busy editing this fic since Nanowrimo's just finished. I did reach my goal of 16k in case anyone was curious, they just need a quick lookthrough before being posted. I watched Torchwood recently too, so you can be sure I'll be sneaking some Janto in here from time to time, just casually I promise! Anyway, looking back on the previous chapters I realized I'd made James out to be this charming, perfect distant character who didn't really seem to have any problems, so I hope this chapter provides a little bit of insight into his character. Rose isn't the only main character here, after all! In terms of the rating change, the next chapter'll be diving into some themes that may be considered a bit more mature, so I've changed it just in case. For this reason the update might take an extra long time, I hope you all can understand. Thanks again for reading! 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Welcome to my 2018 NaNoWriMo fic, written for my Creative Writing class. I'd love some feedback for this work, and any suggestions would definitely be appreciated. This is (clearly) a work in progress, so I'll probably be updating it often. I hope you'll stick along for the ride and as always, thanks for reading!


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